If You Shake Her Heart Enough She Will Appear
by djpcjbs
Summary: Emma tries to build the family she's always wanted but doesn't realize the one that was in front of her face. She's making her way back to Storybrooke but what's left for her there?
1. Returning Home

_Bird. Yell. Siren. Honk. Yell. Chatter. Clank. Screech. Laugh. Siren. Steps. Gush. Honk._

Emma tried in vain to place all of the sounds outside of the window in front of her, but eventually all the noises blended together, creating a whirlpool of hecticness and unsettlement. There was constant chaos in the big city, a mess that she used to find comfort in, used to hide in when the pain of feeling was too much, but now it made her anxious, made her ivory skin inch just below the surface. It was like she hadn't stood still since she entered the city despite her motionless body sitting on the corner of a bed she felt disgusted even looking at.

She wanted the gentle hum of only a few cars coasting down the one main street, wanted the occasion called greeting between well known neighbors or the barks of Pongo during his scheduled walk. She craved the distant noise of the ocean coming from the docks and sounds of wildlife hiding in the woods. She could hear the tinkling of the bell at the diner, the mingling of her good friends laughing and going about their day. Mary Margaret, David, Leroy, Ruby, Archie, Dr Whale, Granny, Hook, all the countless people Emma had left behind in her attempt at a new start. She idly wondered how many new starts a person was allotted before the universe stepped in.

"Hey babe," Neal called, exiting the tiny kitchen, Henry trailing after him as he put on his coat. "I'm gonna go grab some things for dinner. Want anything?" he asked although he probably already knew the answer. Emma shook her head with a small smile. She never wanted anything, at least nothing he could give her. He nodded, looking over at his son. "You wanna come with or do you wanna stay here with your mom?" The boy squinted his eyes, his face an open book as he mulled it over before replying.

"I'll stay here," Henry answered cheerily, smiling up at Neal. The older man nodded his head again, messing Henry's hair with an affectionate smile before leaving the apartment. Emma continued to sit in the sunshine leaking in passed the glass, watching father and son interact before losing herself again in thoughts of the only home she'd ever truly known.

She heard Henry give a heavy sigh before settling down next to her, calmly sitting at her side just like he used to at their wooden castle.

"Mom, you don't need to keep doing this," Henry told her after a moment. His voice was quiet but filled with understanding.

"Doing what?" Emma asked, moving her gaze from the wide window to her son. He looked up at her with loving, trusting eyes, a look that never failed to make her heart skip a beat. After her time in Phoenix, feeling the crushing weight of being rejected for what felt like the millionth time, giving away her only child, not even getting to hold him as her arms ached to grasp at something real, something to love, Emma never believed she would have this. Someone that believed in her, someone who gave her endless faith even when she failed. Maybe she didn't think she deserved it, maybe it was a matter of fate being against her, but she had resigned herself to being alone. But then Henry burst in, demanding to be recognized and loved and she never had a chance. He saved her that day and he saved her all over again every time he gave her that look.

"Pretend to be happy." Emma's face faltered as he saw through her.

"Kid, of course I'm happy," she tried to assure him, gripping his tiny, soft hand in her larger one.

"No, you're not. I know what true love looks like, remember?" he said, talking to her as if she was the child now. "Back in Storybrooke, Grandma would sometimes get distracted from cooking by just staring at Gramps, she loved him that much." Emma smiled, recalling the few times her mother actually burnt dinner after getting caught up in her thoughts. Charming would grin at her knowingly, kissing her forehead before grabbing his cell phone to order take out from Granny's. She never even bothered to apologize, refusing to be ashamed of loving so deeply. Henry's voice continued, dragging her out of her memories of the parents she missed more than when she was an orphan. "You barely even look at Dad when he's in the same room," he whispered, sadness in his voice but he sounded resigned to the fact.

"Henry..." she began, trying to push passed the pressure in her throat, searching her head for something to tell him. An explanation, an apology, anything to make him understand and still be proud of her but nothing appeared.

"It's ok," he cut her off, giving a small smile. "I know you're trying for me. You want us to be a family, the one that neither of us ever had." Emma gave a watery laugh, realizing some tears had fought their way through and were rolling down her face. "But it's time to go home, Mom."

"When did you get so smart, kid?" she joked, fixing his already neat hair just to have the feel of it through her fingers as a distraction.

"I got it from my mom," he told her winningly, looking up at her with his semi-cocky grin fit for a confident eleven year old. It seemed someone had been taking tips from his agreeable grandfather. She let out a more joy filled laugh, pulling him into her arms to hug him fiercely, tears streaking into his dark hair.

"I don't know about that," she somewhat teased, before becoming serious again. "I love you, Henry," she breathed out but her unwavering strength in that knowledge contradicted the airy tone.

"I love you, too, Mom," he replied, squeezing her and in that moment she knew, Neal or no Neal, Storybrooke or Manhattan, as long as she had her son here then she could always make it. He was her strength through and through and she would never regret the events leading up to him entering her life. They were meant to be, true love, and she wasn't ever going to take that for granted.

They pulled out of the embrace but Emma kept a secure arm wrapped around his shoulders as he burrowed into her side, both gazing out of the window into the bustling city.

"Can we go home now?" Henry whispered after what felt like hours. Emma felt a surprising burst of excitement at the thought of returning to the crazy little town that part of her heart was left in.

"Yeah, kid," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "We can go home."

**Hey guys! So, this was originally suppose to be a Captain Swan one-shot but the story ran away from me. Now I'm not sure if I should make it into a two-shot, the second part being the consquences of returning home or if it'll turn into an actual multichapter story. Any thoughts? Let me know because I think I could do a lot with this one.**

**Thanks for reading and maybe review? If you want? Maybe? Please?**


	2. Becoming Home

**So, oh my gosh this second part turned into a beast. And yes, second part as in last part. I decided I wanted something sweeter and to the point, although this chapter does have its bit of heavier moments but nothing too gut wrenching. Without further ado, I hope you all enjoy it!**

Emma rushed her way down the stairs, feet pounding heavily against the metal with her graceless steps. She started heading towards the door, only sparing a quick "_see ya later_" over her shoulder to Mary Margaret who was, at per usual, in the kitchen.

"Oh," she chirped, faltering as her eyes tried to hide the surprise at Emma's abrupt movements. "Are you going to the station? I thought it was your day off," she inquired, already knowing the answer.

"It is," Emma answered flatly, paying special attention as she jerked on the stuck zipper of her leather jacket.

"So where are you going then?" Snow asked, sounding every bit of the overly nosy mother she was. She just naturally wanted to protect her daughter, even before the curse broke, and she felt no shame in it.

"Out," Emma answered cryptically, twisting around to raise her eyebrows innocently at her as she continued walking backwards towards the door. The answer was vague and closed off and Mary Margaret got a glimpse of what it'd be like to raise a teenaged Emma. The thoughts both chilled and warmed her heart like it always did when imagining their lost past.

But she pushed passed that, focusing on the time they did have, _now_.

"Well if it's so unimportant to talk about then it must not take up much time which means you can meet me at Granny's in half an hour," she retorted, her voice knowing as she smiled over the rim of her coffee mug. Emma groaned in response, throwing her head back dramatically at being cornered.

"_Mom_," she drawled out as if the other woman was being ridiculous, which she was, as she gave her an exasperated look. The whole 'mom' thing was new since she got back but Snow refused to let it break her concentration. No matter how much her heart leapt and arms craved to hug and cradle her darling baby girl at the word.

"Emma," she replied, her voice demanding.

"I just need to go talk to somebody about something," Emma explained as if it were a better answer. But Snow didn't become queen by being naive and had an easy time reading between the coded response.

"Is there any chance that that somebody is Hook?" Emma gaped at her for a moment, mouth opening and closing once before pulling herself together.

"He's been too quiet," she explained in vain. He had been though. She hadn't seen the man anywhere in town, not that this surprised her, but she hadn't even received a police report concerning him or Gold or thievery or destruction of property or _anything_. The only reassurance that he was even still _in _Storybrooke was seeing the distant rocking of his ship. Even then she had to stand at the very farthest right she could of her parents window and look left while craning her neck just high enough to see the docks some miles away.

Which she had discovered on pure chance alone.

"That's not true," Mary Margaret replied with a confused expression. "I saw him just the other day having a drink with Leroy." Her daughter's eyes bugged out of her head. "And David mentioned running into him at the store when he was picking up milk."

"What the hell would Captain Hook need from the store?" Emma scoffed, unconsciously stepping towards the island as she pictured the man in his pirate garb, standing in the shampoo aisle, deciding if he wanted wild cherry blossum or ocean breeze.

_Who am I kidding. It'd definitely be ocean breeze._

"I don't know Emma," Mary Margaret shrugged carefully. "But he's been around. Even saw him talking to Henry after school let out one day. Henry said he offered him sailing lessons if it was ok with all of us."

"What? Why?"

Snow didn't know the answer to the question that she herself had been wondering about so she gave the only sort of explanation that came to mind. "A lot can change in two months, sweetheart." Emma huffed in frustration at that, annoyed that no matter how much she adjusted the box she tried to store the man into, he never quite fit the way she would like.

"Damn pirate," she muttered under her breathe, considering if she was out of her mind trying to understand the enigma that was Killian Jones.

Mary Margaret sighed, interrupting her thoughts. "Why are you going there, Emma?" she asked, getting right down to the point with the exasperated tone that was scarily similar to her own.

"I don't know," Emma confessed, her inner confusion overshadowing her nature of aloofness. "I just want answers I guess." She stared off into space for a moment. "Ever since leaving New York...I'm just not sure of anything." She focused back in on her mother, her eyes betraying her as they pleaded for maternal guide.

"You know," Snow replied, taking the cue seamlessly and continued on with her wise royal voice. "When I met your father it wasn't in the best of circumstances." Emma raised her eyebrows as Snow gave her a pointed look, before nodding over to the dining table. Emma did as indicated, moving over to sit to the right of her mother who took the seat at the head of the table, slightly hunched over her coffee as she gave a long sigh. "I was living in the woods, wanted for 'Murder, Treason, and Treachery'," she listed easily, voice sarcastic properness. "All lies obviously, made up by Regina to have me arrested and executed. I had gotten away, thanks only to the Huntsman," she carefully glanced at Emma who gave a forced smile, telling her to continue despite her painful memory. "stealing, but only from the queen. I only ever did what I needed to survive, but it made me bitter and lonely in the process."

She hesitated, smiling to herself. "Your father, the hopeless romantic that he is, decided to take the 'scenic route' one day with his future bride," Quoting yet another specific detail, Emma realized just how much of a storybook character her mother actually was. "I stole from him by mistake. He caught me. I bested him. He caught me _again_. I bested him _again_," she repeated, lolling her head side to side with a droll tone. Emma's ears perked at her word choice but decided to keep it to herself. "And then," she hesitated, letting her voice fade off.

"And then?" the daughter pushed, desperate to hear the story of how her parents fell in love. She had always wondered as a little girl, imagining an epic love story that would end with them coming to find her and take her home into their perfect world. That was until she was old enough to realize what being abandoned meant and then that picture had turned into something painful and ugly. It was ironic how her toddler mind had been closer to the truth than any mature, rational bone in her body.

"And then he saved me." Snow finished with a dreamy voice, looking at Emma although her thoughts were far away. "Said it was 'the honourable thing to do' when in honesty, I had shown him no honour to reciprocate. And I knew right then. I knew I would never forget this man. Fiance or no fiance, he would always be apart of me." She cleared her throat after a moment, voice taking on a flatter tone, hiding the still pain from the beginning to their never ending tale. "I eventually got back what I had sold of his and we parted ways, never meant to see each other again." This time when she stopped it seemed to be for good and Emma only looked at her expectantly, not believing that was it considering, well, considering she was sitting there in the first place.

"And?" she prompted again, voice much more demanding.

"And I never forgot about him. The next time I went to see Charming was to tell him I loved him and run away together. We had only spent a day together." she finished matter-o-factly and Emma's eyes widen at the thought. Determination leaked through Snow's face and she grasped her daughters hand resting on the table. "Love isn't predictable, Emma. You can't rationalize it or talk it into submission. Love is the _strongest thing in this realm and the next_," she stressed, accentuating each word. "If that is what you're feeling for Hook," Emma looked as if she were going to interrupt with some sort of denial. "-which I will support you one hundred percent either way-" she added. "then, sweetheart, you _must _tell him." The look she gave her daughter was one of remorse and heartbreak. "Because the saddest thing in the world is to love alone."

* * *

Emma made her way down the docks, the fingers tapping on her jean covered thigh the only indicator of the anxiousness she was feeling. She wished she could bury them in her pockets, curling in on herself for just a moment like she'd become accustomed to with her dark peacoat but she'd left it at home. She cursed the warm weather for her discomfort.

Eventually approaching the large ship she'd been looking for, she stopped to stare at it for a moment, finally able to appreciate it due to the enchantment fading. Being able to see the Jolly Roger from the outside was something she could have never anticipated. Honestly, she had expected something a little more...threatening. Old, beaten wood, dark sails, anything that screamed intimidating but she couldn't find a single indicator to what she was sure was a deadly pirate ship.

She flashed back to her first time being on the ship and remembered actually snorting at the bright colors that made her feel as if she were in a Disney movie. Emma couldn't possibly imagine it being the same vessel Hook bragged about any chance he had, let alone picture him actually sailing it. It didn't _fit_.

But she supposed this was just another one of the many things that didn't make an ounce of sense when it came to the obnoxious captain.

"Hook!" she called out, feeling unsure once again.

_Damn, where are those pockets_ she thought irritably, eventually settling to cross her arms over her chest. She continued to wait, hoping that she hadn't caught him at the few moments he was actually off the ship. _Few? Apparently he's a damn social butterfly. Just so long as I'm not there._

"Dammit Killian," she muttered under her breath, debating whether or not to leave when the captain himself finally appeared from below deck.

"Hello, darling," he greeted but his voice was tight, calculated as he began fiddling with some rope that hung from a wooden beam. She began to slowly make her way up the gangplank, keeping her guard around the mischievous pirate.

"Permission to come aboard?" Emma asked, although it sounded more as if she were teasing him as she raised an eyebrow. Teasing she could do. She was comfortable teasing. Teasing didn't mean anything.

He looked her over, an unimpressed expression covering his face before sighing and beckoning to her with a lazy hand.

"Aye, lass. Come on then," he drawled. She did as told, making the last step onto the swaying ship. Hook casually drew towards the opposite railing and a part of Emma wondered if he was trying to get away from her. He stayed silent as he stared at her, raising his eyebrows in a way that made her stomach do funny things. "Well, get on with it, Swan."

"I've heard you've fit yourself quite nicely into Storybrooke since I left," Emma lightly jumped in, hoping to steer the conversation towards what had been nagging her since the first and last time she saw a flash of bright blue and leather around the corner when she'd first returned.

He glanced over at her carefully, chin raised in mild defiance.

"I've been around," he finally offered, the very epitome of vague as he avoided looking at her. Emma narrowed her eyes, detecting that this was just the start of him being uncooperative.

"Even walked my son home the other day?" she asked knowingly, hoping to get some sort of answer out of him, something to help her make sense of this in her head. "And sailing lessons? Really?" she asked flatly, letting a smirk appear on her face as she gave him a playfully challenging look, much like she had before they'd climbed the beanstalk together.

"The boy came to me, telling me of how he'd never even been on a real boat before getting on the Roger," Killian explained, sounding aghast as he went back to a relaxed pose, elbows resting on the railing, looking out over the water. "And then I saw the bloody awful technique his father showed him and I just could not let your lad continue on in such shame." Emma's smirk widened at Hook's disgusted look, knowing that in reality he was just as big a softy as anyone else in this town when it came to her son. He looked annoyed at her expression, huffing when she copied his stance, almost like she was casually calling him out. "It was the honorable thing to do," he tried to insist, knowing it was no use. Emma's eyes widen, bigger than even when Henry had admitted to being her son, and her breath caught in her throat. That lasted for about a second before she let out an incredulous laugh, the tinkling sounds of it making Killian unable to resist the small smile from appearing on his face. He was reluctant to let go of his calm persona but her rare display of joy wasn't something he could dismiss. She really was gorgeous without those damned walls interfering.

"Whatever you say, Captain," she teased, bumping his shoulder with her own. They both chuckled before Hook seemed to sober up some. He was still relaxed, basking in her warm presence but there was something serious buried deep in his ocean clear eyes.

"I dare say you should be leave soon, darling," he finally whispered after they watched the descending sun for a few blissful moments, knowing she'd just arrived but that was still too long. Emma looked over at him with confused, doe-like eyes that were few and far between being present on the sheriff's face. "Wouldn't want anyone to actually believe you enjoy the company of a deplorable pirate," he smiled softly. She gazed at him then, her face showing her calculating thoughts.

"Have you been avoiding me?" she asked finally, her tone once again casual as if asking how his day had been but her sharp green eyes continued to watch him carefully. This is what she came for and he wouldn't even get by with a half truth this time.

Killian's jaw tightened minutely at the question as he kept his eyes trained forward.

"Nothing to avoid, love," he responded, voice tight and controlled.

"Liar," she whispered softly, barely a noise over the lapping ocean. He glanced at her from under his knit brow and she gave a sad smile in response. "I know, the whole lie detector's kinda a buzz kill when trying to save face," she shrugged sympathetically. He looked away from her, permanently frustrated by this infuriating woman that he could never quite figure out. She was as tough as any warrior, holding a knife to your neck at the mere thought of being betrayed one second but would offer gentle understanding with restoring words the next. Despite everything they had been through, her abandonment of him repeatedly and irrational anger whenever in close proximity, all he could see in her was a wanting soul trying to make it through hell. Never the unlovable orphan she claimed to be.

Never would he see his Swan as anything less than absolutely brilliant.

"What made you come back?" he asked, deviating the conversation back to a safer subject. He knew she wouldn't be distracted for long but he would take the extra few minutes. Emma sighed tiredly from beside him.

"Have you ever had something that was so perfect, everything you ever really wanted, but it was perfect in all the wrong ways?" she answered his question with a question, meeting his gaze with her own personal confusion. He twisted his body, leaning his hip against the wood as he faced her with crossed arms.

Hook would like to say he'd never felt such a thing, but he had. Milah was everything he had craved as a young pirate captain. Dangerous, lively, full of adventure that clawed at her heart. She would listen intently to his tales of thieving and sailing the full seas, falling over him in a way that made him proud, made him feel what he thought a man should feel. Her eyes would twinkle in easy laughter, bewitching him with her undeniable appeal. The woman was perfect to him from the first drink at that seaside tavern.

But what they had wasn't perfect. There would be moments, lying in bed during the late hours of the night, when he would hold her to his chest as her fingers gripped him, just for an excuse not to look at each other.

Milah had run from a child, _her _child, and a husband who, coward or not, loved her steadfastly. She abandoned her family in the dead of night to run off with a man she'd met only the day before. Of course he loved her, but that would never excuse the things she did. And Milah wasn't the only one who felt the soul-eating guilt of her decisions. Killian knew the pain of lost parents, the emptiness of being left alone by the very people who'd brought you life, and all he could think about in those dark moments was that small boy, surrounded by drunk men, begging his mama to come home with him.

So, yes, Killian knew what it was like to crave more than you had wanted, to face the reality that you were wrong in your selfish desires and silently begging any gods listening for a better option to present itself, letting your self hatred cease for once and for all.

"I wanted to try for Henry," Emma continued, either oblivious to his inner regrets or choosing to ignore them. He suspected the latter. "And for myself I guess. That scared girl still stuck in a jailcell wanted her one last chance," she confessed, giving him a wry glance but his frown only deepened.

"He was a coward," he told her, sure in his declaration, even if it was the same boy he'd spent many a sleepless night sending apologies into the universe for.

"He wasn't the only one though," Emma replied, her eyes moving to his face unsurely. "It wasn't right of me to leave you on that beanstalk," she told him unexpectedly. Killian face scrunched up in confusion.

"Emma-" he began, wanting to quiet her worrisome thoughts.

"No. It wasn't. And don't try and say it was," she interrupted calmly, not bothering to even look at him as she continued. If Emma wanted what she thought she wanted then she was going to have to try something new. "Do you know the moment I knew I couldn't trust myself around you?" she asked, obviously rhetorical, but Hook couldn't pass up such an easy in.

"Well, I'd imagine the moment you practically threw yourself at me," he offered seriously, as if it were a real suggestion, but flashed her his signature charming grin when she glanced at him warily. "Oh, alright then," he huffed. "Let's hear it." He attempted to look put out as he moved a lock of her hair over her shoulder, trying to hide his eagerness to hear her confession. She smiled up at him at the gesture and he had to remind himself to focus on her words.

"It was when those rocks fell on you," Emma whispered, eyes returning to the railing. She watched as her hand rested on the wood, mere inches away from the arm that supported his weight casually. "One second you were there, standing right in front of me." Her hand found itself tentatively scooching towards the larger one within reach. "And then you were gone." The digits hesitated, suddenly unsure if she was reading this wrong, if she was throwing herself out there only to be alone all over again. "And all I could think was there goes another one. Another person who was torn from my life right in front of my eyes and I couldn't bear it. I couldn't let myself have that weakness anymore." She felt the same fear begin to creep up inside her again, clogging her throat as her vision became hazy, watching her lonely, scared hand, desperate to reach for something but too afraid to risk it. But then his fingers grazed hers and suddenly she wasn't risking it alone. Only two reached out, lightly hooking hers in a grasp so small it was almost just a brush of skin, pausing to let her react as his thumb rubbed over the back of her palm gently. After a moment of deciding to trust herself, _and to trust him_, her fingers twisted, moving his with them to rest their careful hands against each other. A soft buzzing flowed between everywhere their skin touched, reminding Emma of when a limb fell asleep but funnily enough was the most alive she'd felt in a long time. She observed as the two hands seemed to move as if they already knew each other, gingerly intertwining their fingers to fit in crevices that molded to them perfectly.

It was one of the most intimate moments of Emma's life.

"Love's not a weakness, Emma," he murmured, recovering from being transfixed by the oddly calming display. She realized at some point he had moved closer, barely a few inches separating them. She felt a warm spark inside her, not hot and fast, but slow and building, something almost calm in the way it consumed her, keeping her safe.

"I know," she whispered before their lips were touching. It was soft and almost cautious, both aware of the line they were crossing. But they did it, they kissed and nothing terrible happened. He didn't flee or crumple at her feet. He stood steady, strong, able to hold her up if needed and the thought made her smile into his lips, joy consuming her in a rush. Killian mimicked her actions.

"It's about bloody time," he growled against her mouth, playfulness in his voice for once. Emma let out a gleeful laugh just before his lips attached themselves to hers again, his display becoming confident and firm. She threw her arms around his neck, wrists crossed behind his head as it bent down to reach her better. The now free hand cupped her cheek as his arm wrapped around her lower back, securing her to him, unwilling to let her go anytime soon.

Emma managed to pull her mouth away for only a second.

"I love you," she breathed, glancing up from his bruised lips to the sparkling blue eyes as they suddenly darkened. He pulled away less than an inch to look at her properly. Killian growled again, a noise Emma found herself enjoying more and more, before returning to give her another powerful kiss.

"Say it again," he refused to move his lips from hers, his words almost begging but he didn't care as he craved those words again.

"I love you," she complied, pulling back only to peck his lips repeatedly, saying the phrase over and over between the gentle caresses.

"Emma," Killian groaned out. "My Emma," he murmured and her heart skipped a beat. "I love you more than the stars."

"Hey, no need to try to one up me buddy," she told him dryly, beaming when he looked at her. Looked at her as like if she was the only thing he'd see for the next three hundred years then he couldn't ask for anything more. He brushed her bangs gently out of her face, noting the messy strands that were undoubtedly from him.

"I'm not perfect, Emma," he told her after a moment, knowing she should turn away but hoping she wouldn't. She was his last shot at happiness but he wouldn't damn her to a life she wasn't sure in.

"No, you're not," she answered honestly. "But you're my perfect."

**So..? Review? Tell me what you think? I love hearing what you guys think so don't hesitate to keep it up**


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